My heart wrenched in panic.
Taizi missed two more strikes, and the Imperial Team slowed. The Tibetans seized the chance and tore through Taizi’s side of line like a spear. The Imperial Team lost the fourth chukka.
The Duke leered. “Imperial 2, Tibetans 2.”
“Break!” the Emperor shouted.
I poured him more wine, but I could barely see the liquid or hear what he said to his vassals and ministers. On the field, Taizi was shouting again, this time to Prince Yo and the other imperial players, who laid their mallets across their laps and lowered their heads.
A bitter taste lingered on my tongue. My bet was doomed.
? ? ?
The fifth chukka—my last opportunity! The crowd shouted, and the sound of the drums deafened. I could barely breathe. My eyes darted here and there. Each time a Tibetan scored, the Duke hit his fist against his palm in victory. I wanted to punch him.
Taizi held the ball again. Hooves pounding, he sailed through the Tibetan defense and struck the ball. It soared in the air, and he forged ahead to add a decisive hit. But the Tibetan vanguard broke through the right wing from nowhere. Their steeds pranced as they met muzzle to muzzle. Cursing, Taizi yanked his horse to the left, where another Imperial player galloped forward and plowed into him with a thunderous crash.
I stood up, shocked. Screams pierced my ears. People rushed toward the field. But I could not see anything through the cloud of dust.
“He’s under the horse!” someone yelled.
“He’s dead!” another voice cried out. “He’s dead!”
Taizi was dead? I raced to the field and forced my way through the crowd. Then I saw him. A man lay on the ground; the imprint of a hoof dented his chest. Blood and dirt plastered his face, while his head was cracked opened like a shattered watermelon.
It was not Taizi, but all the same, my stomach churned. The polo match had been a gamble for me, but it had been a battle for that man’s life.
“What the hell are you all standing here for?” Taizi bawled, leaning against a brown horse. “Drummers! Restart the game! I shall send the Tibetans home with their heads between their legs.”
“Why did you turn left?” Prince Yo, his face red, dove toward the heir and pummeled his chest.
“My horse was startled.” Taizi blocked another blow.
“That was not part of our strategy.” Prince Yo’s thick eyebrows knotted tightly. A fire of resentment burned on his face. “You ruined the game. You ruined everything, you idiot.”
“Swine! You think you’re better than me?” Taizi cursed.
“What’s wrong with you? Have you lost your mind? Where is your brain? Is it sitting on your cock?”
“Fuck,” Taizi spat. “Stupid horseshit. Fuck.” He lurched forward as though to punch Prince Yo but collapsed on the ground. My heart sank. The heir’s leg was broken.
“Get them out of here. Both of them!” the Emperor ordered.
Several ministers raced to take Prince Yo aside, and the Duke and other guards carried Taizi, still fighting, out of the field.
“Now, let me see…” The Emperor turned to look at the net at the end of the field.
I glanced at him in surprise. Taizi had broken his leg, but the Emperor did not spare him a glance. The rumor of him deposing the heir must have been true.
“Shall we cancel the game, my Heavenly Khan?” the Tibetan ambassador asked.
I was glad to hear that, and the Captain, who had patrolled the grounds sullenly, ordered to remove the carcass of the horse.
“No, the game must continue.” The Emperor rolled up his sleeve. “I will take my son’s place. When you go home, tell your king a wager is a wager.”
Protests instantly rose from the ministers. The Emperor was still recovering, and it was unwise for him to lead the team on a polo field.
“Father.” Prince Ke, his eyes timid, glanced at his mother, who nodded slightly, and cleared his throat. “I can replace the heir. I know how to play Taizi’s position.”
The Emperor did not seem to hear him. “Anyone else?”
“Let me try.” A clear, feminine voice came from beside me. I had not turned when Jewel, wearing her veiled hat, sauntered to my side.
What was she doing? A noble lady, even if permitted to play the sport, did not mingle with a group of foreign men.
But nobody objected. Then a wave of laughter spread.
“Go do your needlework. Only wild women from the steppes fight with men,” the Emperor said.
I did not like it. He should have been angry at her interruption, but he was not. Instead, he looked amused.